Ablaze
by givemybeauregards
Summary: "At first glance, she didn't want to believe what her eyes were telling her. Where was the man with the smooth voice? Who was this strange boy with his not-like-Lewis-and-Clark clothing and eyes like ice? But she was not stupid - she was thoughtless, she was impulsive, but she was not stupid - and she knew better than to waste time with questions."
1. Part One

**Let me begin by saying that, in my heart at least, Peter Pan has absolutely stolen the spot of favorite character right out from underneath Jefferson's backside. Robbie Kay plays him beautifully (not to mention, Robbie Kay ****_is _****beautiful) and every time he comes onscreen, I get the slightest bit anxious. When have good things ever happened with Peter onscreen, I mean, really? The only problem is when Peter's onscreen, all I long for is more smiling from him, which is probably just more Robbie fangirling. Somehow, my mind decided that a girl around would make him smile more and since the writers have already taken care of Wendy, who else would be a natural fit? And so, this fic was born.**

**Part One and Part Two take place on the same night, whereas Part Three picks up directly after the seventh episode of Season 3, Dark Hollow. Enjoy!**

* * *

The first thing she heard was the sloshing of water against wood. That wasn't anything out of the ordinary, of course. Rushing waves had been the sound she'd fallen asleep to; in fact, on calmer nights, she'd often used the tides comings and goings as a lullaby, relaxing her, easing the day's stress away.

This hadn't been a calm night.

Her head lolled as the canoe shifted, long, dark hair moving to tickle her nose. She snorted and her father's hand came up to rest on her head, strong and gentle. _"Sleep, my flower,"_ he told her. _"There is still far to go."_

As her eyes slid shut again, she thought about what they were doing. In a boat, surrounded by other boats, manned by other men and women who were committing the same crime. No matter what name you call it by, she mused, a retreat is still running away from a fight.

A fire rose in her belly as she considered it, warm, familiar. The tribe could've taken them, Lewis and Clark, those traitors. Take care of them first and then move on to the rest, the ones they'd brought with them, spill their blood on the stones, let it wash into the rivers and stain them red, let the land taste their victory, yes yes, her heart thrummed with righteous fury, they would not get away with it, they could n-

The canoe bumped against sand, jolting her out of her thoughts. Her father was already standing, giving orders, being a chief. Someone offered her a hand to pull her ashore, but before they could, she was hoisted up onto her father's shoulder. Perhaps he still thought her asleep? Or perhaps he thought she lacked the strength that standing required. Her teeth gritted, but she restrained herself. He was her chief. She would obey.

People spilled from canoes, carrying with them all that they'd brought in their haste to leave the land she called home. She looked around, blinked once, twice. Of all the abilities she boasted, she did not have night vision, but this place that they'd landed looked to be thickly forested. Her eyes narrowed. Plants meant coverage for hostiles or - what had Clarke called her? A savage. Coverage for savages.

"You all look rather lost." A voice. Smooth, lilting. His speech was much more soothing than Lewis and Clark's had been. Everyone else's eyes swept in the direction her back was facing and she cursed her father for not trusting his sixteen-year-old daughter to stand upright without causing trouble.

She felt the change in his posture as her father straightened, addressing the smooth-voiced speaker. "We come from long way," he said, struggling to make use of the little English he knew.

The other voice laughed. "Everyone comes a long way to get to Neverland," was his response. "I assume you came here seeking sanctuary?" His voice grew louder. Closer. "I rule here, so I'm the only one in position to grant it." Her father's body tensed.

"But you've caught me in a giving mood this evening, so I'll let you stay here. Temporarily," he continued. The chief's posture remained stiff and she realized that he didn't know what this stranger offered. He could barely understand simple English as it was, let alone the elegant speech of the newcomer. Immediately, she began squirming, silently begging to be let down.

The man with the lilting speech must've noticed this, for next she heard, "What's that on your shoulder? A trophy?" Only at that did her father take her down from his shoulder and plant her bare feet firmly on the sandy shore.

At first glance, she didn't want to believe what her eyes were telling her. Where was the man with the smooth voice? Who was this strange boy with his not-like-Lewis-and-Clark clothing and eyes like ice? But she was not stupid - she was thoughtless, she was impulsive, but she was not stupid - and she knew better than to waste time with questions.

Turning to her father, she explained the offer to him in their native tongue. _"He wishes to help us, Father," _she said. _"He will let us stay here for a time."_ Her voice caught on her next words._ "He rules this land."_

The chief looked as skeptical as she felt. How could this person, this boy who couldn't be too much older than her, rule anything? Could his father have been a chief who died too early? But, no. He couldn't be a chief. He was a like-Lewis-and-Clark. A white man. He was a savage.

It took her a few seconds to realize that she'd murmured these words aloud and, horror of horrors, in English. In an instant, his eyes fixed upon her, but he didn't seem angry. No, he seemed almost... pleased. A bark of laughter escaped his throat, bitter, sharp. He slipped the slightest bit closer to her. She ignored her father's stern fingers on her arm.

"What's your name?" he asked her, his voice soft. It amazed her how quickly his voice could shift itself and morph into something new and in the midst of her awe, her real name slipped out: "Tigerlily." Her father's fingers were going to leave bruises.

The boy's lips curved upward in a half-smile and he bent slightly at the waist. A bow; Lewis had showed her one before. A sign of goodwill. It was etiquette, whatever that was. "I am Peter Pan. And yes, Tigerlily. I am a savage." He hovered just in front of her. Her eyes remained fixed on his. "I am a savage of the worst kind."

And so there came to be Indians in Neverland.


	2. Part Two

A roaring fire set shadows dancing through the darkness. Tigerlily stared into the blaze, her gaze matching its intensity. Once or twice, a shadow would flicker in this specific _way _that she couldn't put her finger on. Nevertheless, it always caught her eye, made her look up in surprise and see her people resting, speaking in hushed worried tones. _They're afraid. They want to go home. We cannot stay here._

The touch of a hand on her shoulder made her jump. _"Oh, it's you, Mother Willow," _sighed Tigerlily, trying to settle her heart. The elderly woman took a seat on the ground next to her, worry creasing her already lined face. _"Are you alright?" _she asked as she held her hands out to warm them. _"Not scared, are you?" _

Tigerlily looked astonished. _"Mother Willow!" _She forced a laugh that surprisingly didn't feel forced. _"When am I ever afraid? Neverland is only a temporary situation. We will stay here for a time to regroup and then we will return home, ready to reclaim what is ours."_

Mother Willow looked at her for a moment in silence, as if unsure whether or not to believe her young charge. Tigerlily did have a penchant for exaggerating. But in another moment, her face relaxed into a broad smile. _"Let us hope so, little one," _she replied as she leaned over to kiss Tigerlily's forehead. She resisted the impulse to squirm away. _Flower. Little one._

Long after Mother Willow retired to her sleeping mat, Tigerlily stayed by the fire's remains, looking into the glowing embers. All her life, she had been patronized and talked down to and all her life, she'd tried to prove herself worthy of better treatment. Why should this attempt be any different? Her eyes drifted to the trees again, her mind to the unknown that stood beyond it. Maybe... this time she wouldn't just be a liability. She would explore, discover what the tribe was up against. Maybe that would garner some respect.

Standing slowly, Tigerlily walked, quickly and quietly, out of the clearing her people had claimed earlier that evening and into the forest. Into the home of shadows.

It had been barely half an hour before she heard his voice. "Not lost, are you?"

Tigerlily didn't jump. She didn't squeal or squeak. She simply let the leaf she'd been examining fall and turned to look at him. Let him see that she didn't scare so easy. "I couldn't sleep," she muttered, hesitantly trying to do the curtsy Lewis had attempted to teach her. He'd given up soon after he'd begun, complaining of poor posture and asserting that she'd never really have to use it anyway.

Peter didn't seem to care much about her poor posture, though. "I appreciate the gesture, but there's no need for that here," he assured her, a lazy smirk proudly displayed on his face for the whole world to see. "Neverland doesn't care much for etiquette. And neither do I."

She nodded, feeling rather relieved. If constant curtsying had been one of his rules, the Indians would've had to leave the island right away.

A moment passed. And then another.

When it became apparent to her that he wasn't going to leave, she figured she may as well utilize him. "I don't recognize this plant," she said, pointing to the leaf she'd been so interested in. He walked over, his thumbs resting in the loops of his belt. "That doesn't surprise me," he replied. "It's native to Neverland. Most plants here are."

He wasn't looking at the plant when Tigerlily looked back at him. He was looking at her, full in the face, his eyes of ice inquisitive. "What?" she snapped, her brain reminding her moments later that this was the ruler who had so kindly allowed her people to stay in his land only hours before and no, that was probably not the way to speak to him.

His eyebrow arched and, though she'd seen people do that thousands of times, somehow on him, it looked ridiculously threatening. Was she just being distrustful? Probably. But she had a feeling he deserved it. "Is there a problem? I was only looking at you," he told her. Tigerlily bit back the retort that 'was' implied that he had stopped.

"It's the way you're looking at me," she huffed, glancing around to make sure no one from camp had followed her into the forest. When her eyes moved back to Peter, he was even closer to her. "How am I looking at you?" He smirked, so pleased with himself. Too pleased. "Tigerlily, was it? Sounds like Lillian, do you mind Lillian?" He didn't wait for her to respond. "You seem a little jumpy, Lillian. Are you frightened?" Clearly, someone needed to knock Peter Pan off his high horse. And that someone would be her.

"No," Tigerlily replied, glaring up into his face. "I fear nothing."

Peter laughed, shook his head. "Really. It's not good form to lie to people," he said. Her blood boiled. She knew that tone, that patronizing, you-don't-know-what-you're-talking-about voice. Forget about how he should be spoken to; he deserved an arrow through his forehead for speaking to the daughter of a chief that way. For speaking to _her _that way.

"What about dying?" he mused, now circling around her, an animal eyeing its prey. She gave him a steady look. "Fearing death is useless," she replied coolly.. "It is inevitable. It will claim us all eventually. After I die, my soul will be reborn into another form; therefore, I will never truly die."

He frowned the slightest bit. "That's not exactly certain here," he explained. "On Neverland, a person never grows any older. I've looked this way for quite a few years now."

Her brows rose. Could this be true? _It doesn't matter._ "We are not staying." She added a polite smile at the end for effect.

Apparently, he didn't like that answer.

Peter's eyes grew darker, angrier. A scowl was firmly etched into his features. "What about your father dying, your grandmother?" he spat, his eyebrows drawn down low. Tigerlily shrugged, picking through strands of her hair as if he were boring her. "Their deaths are also inevitable, Peter. They will be missed, but I will become chief and I will guide my people. And then I will die and someone else will guide them."

A warmth began in her belly and spread to her limbs, loosening their stiffness, making her glow, making her grin. Whether it was accidental or purposeful, he was forcing her to realize something she'd hoped for all her life. For once, Tigerlily understood she really, truly did not fear anything. Not pain, not sickness, not heights or water or even the white man. Long ago, she'd thought she did. Even an hour ago, she'd thought she did. But now, standing in front of this boy who seemed able to inspire more terror in her people than any man she'd ever known, she could admit to herself that any fear she felt was feigned.

"I told you." She looked up at Peter, her delight obvious on her face. "I fear nothing. You do not scare me, and you never will."

This was long before Tigerlily learned of the games Peter Pan liked to play, and how absolutely irresistible he found a challenge.

With his head cocked to one side, Peter's face shifted instantly. He looked almost puzzled. "Is that so?" he wondered aloud, touching his fingers to his lips. Then he snapped his fingers and shadows flowed out of the woods and her knife slashed through pure darkness and something hissed and her arms were behind her and she couldn't remember putting them there.

Someone lay hunched on the ground, hands over his face, soundless but breathing. While Tigerlily struggled with the boy who'd restrained her, Peter moved to the figure. "Felix..." The name was almost a question. Felix lifted his head and blood dripped down his cheek to the forest floor. Tigerlily's knife was on the ground in front of him, moonlight glinting off the blade.

It was too dark to see exactly what damage she'd done, but she sincerely hoped that the wound would bleed forever.

Peter was back in front of her then, his hand holding her head up, his eyes on hers. "You don't fear me, Tigerlily?" he snarled. He reminded her of a wild animal, looking gentle from afar, but ready to bite anything and everything once you came closer. "Then I'll make you. From this moment onward, you are my prisoner."

She bared her teeth at him, wishing that she hadn't deliberately walked so far away from camp. But wait. Wasn't the point of her expedition to gain respect? Certainly, Peter's would be more valuable than her tribe's, and much more hard won.

"Taking me captive will not make me fear you, Pan."

The corners of his lips curled upwards as he looked down at her, his smile mischievous. "No? Well, perhaps this will. Maybe if I kidnap you and then free you and then kidnap you again when you least expect it, you'll learn to fear me," he laughed. "It's true that nothing scares you, Tigerlily, but I can see that there's a deep love of freedom in you."

It was true. Since she'd been subdued, she hadn't stopped struggling, not even once Peter had begun to speak.

He nodded at the boy behind her. "Toss her in a cage for the night, we'll release her in the morning." The boy nodded once and turned around, forcing the straining girl forward with the point of his own knife. Peter followed, calling a "Get up, Felix" over his shoulder.

And so it came to be that Tigerlily became a sort of prize on Neverland. Peter would have the lost boys steal her away every so often and when Hook came to Neverland, even he would join in on the fun. For a time, she lived in fear of being abducted every moment.

But then she realized that that was exactly what Peter wanted. Fear of what he might do was no different from fear of _him._ The instant she realized was the very instant she stopped struggling. And the day she didn't struggle was the day Peter Pan decided that his game was over.

Tigerlily was no longer the prize. Tigerlily was an _opponent._


	3. Part Three

"Glad to see that all birds are back in cages, where they belong."

He didn't look up at her, but she knew he knew exactly where she was. "Chieftess Lillian." He leaned casually against a nearby tree. Even after all this time, she wasn't sure she'd ever seen him look anything but casual.

She snorted and leapt, landing soundly just above with only a soft rustling of leaves to show she'd moved at all. Swift. Catlike. She wasn't a tiger for nothing.

"That's Chief to you, Pete. Now, why was the Wendybird out of her cage, anyway?" _Rapid-fire_, she reminded herself. _Get this done as quickly as possible._

This time, he looked up at her with a shrug. "I was in need of her services."

"Believe me, that'll come back to bite you in the end." A moment later, her feet hit the ground just in front of him, boots stirring up little clouds of dust.

Peter sighed and not so discreetly rolled his eyes. "Lillian, I know you don't trust her, bu-"

She interrupted him with laughter like breaking waves, hard, unforgiving. "Distrust is a very light term for what I feel for that girl," muttered Tigerlily, tossing a glance skyward. He tutted his disapproval. "You really don't trust anyone who doesn't look like you. That's very intolerant of you, Lillian."

Tigerlily crossed her arms over her chest defiantly, a gesture that had always irritated her father. It only served to make Peter smile. "Considering my experience with the white man-"

A cough. Her eyes softened slightly. "- and the white _boy,_ I have a hard time seeing them as anything other than..." She trailed off, searching for words.

Peter was more than happy to supply them. "Roguish?" he asked her, stepping closer. "Rakish?" Another step. His teeth showed as he smirked. "Devastatingly handsome?"

_Yes, yes and yes. But that was not the point of talking to you._

Clearing her throat, Tigerlily decided that it was time to steer the conversation back on track. "It's been a while since I've seen you, Pan," she said, casually meeting his eyes.

He arched an eyebrow. "Has it? 2, 3 days?" His calmness was infuriating, but in order for this to be satisfying, she had to keep control of her temper, rein it in like the wild colt it apparently thought it was.

"More like a week," she answered, as she took a step away from him. Being close to Pan, physically or otherwise, was dangerous. Years of experience had taught her that. "You must be working on something big."

Peter remained tight-lipped as he eyes her, wearing one of the few emotions she'd seen on him over the years: wariness. "We both know you found the heart of the truest believer, Pete," continued Tigerlily, allowing herself an inner bout of gloating when his forehead creased with displeasure.

"You heard that, did you?" he growled, his hands clenching and unclenching furiously. Tigerlily could almost hear her heart singing. _If someone bottled the feeling of breaking Peter Pan's composure even the tiniest bit, they could rule the world. _"And where exactly did you hear that?"

Her mind worked to remember his name, but somehow she could think past the sound of her arrow slicing the air in two and thudding into the left side of his body. Clean kill, hardly any blood. Bit of a pity.

"M... something. It started with an M. Really, Peter. You should know better than to try and hide things from me."

Peter's eyes could've been classified as weaponry. "Marmaduke." Tigerlily forced herself not to squirm under his gaze. "His name was Marmaduke. And you know you're forbidden to speak to the Boys."

It wasn't that she relished killing children. Technically, she was one. Technically, she would be one forever. But she had a tribe to defend. The dreamshade-tipped arrow between her father's ribs had assured that. "He was on my side of the island, Pan," she argued, pushing her hands together to wring them, then noticing and forcing them apart. "I needed someone to tell me about those adults wandering the forest with the pirate. They could be fun to play with." She didn't relish the murder of children. But adults...

In an instant, he had her pushed against a tree, his fingers tight around her throat. "They are, and it's my game," he hissed, his teeth gritted. "Don't touch them."

Tigerlily didn't bother wasting energy trying to push him off. She'd been in that position too many times to believe that would work. "I-if they cross over to my side..." Her voice was barely above a whisper. She cursed herself for stuttering.

He glared down at her and pressed harder. The feathered arrows in her quiver tickled her neck, but she didn't have the breath to laugh. "That was not a polite request, Tigerlily. You will leave them be."

She felt like her throat was collapsing. Was that darkness eating away at the corners of her vision or just more Neverland eating away at her? "You... promised..." she coughed. Every word was a struggle. She felt more light-headed than she could ever remember being. "You promised me... half the... island..."

Her eyelids were lead.

And then - he let go.

Tigerlily clung to the tree that had nearly helped condemn her for support, coughing and wheezing. Of course he would not kill her. Hadn't he had plenty of chances before? He didn't need a Lost Boy/Indian war destroying his careful plans for immortality. She had no desire to be an obstacle in his quest. What did the boy, Henry, mean to her? She didn't care for children anyway. But the adults... the adults were hers. Or they would be.

He didn't offer her a hand or any other part of his body, which didn't surprise her. But he was still there and still watching her, whereas in previous encounters, he'd just stalked off in a huff. She lifted her eyes to his and he nodded slightly, almost imperceptibly.

In that moment, he reaffirmed their agreement: she would exist and he would exist and sometimes, they would be forced to coexist. He'd promised her that and Peter Pan always kept his promises. Somewhere in the back of Tigerlily's mind, she had suspicions that this might just be another game, but at the moment, she didn't particularly care. He'd given her what she'd come for. Reassurance.

"I'll do everything in my power to keep them away from the border," he warned her. Him warning her. That didn't happen often enough.

She chuckled loudly, enjoying the feeling of air in her lungs. "And when that doesn't work," she replied, merrily tossing her braid, "I'll crush their windpipes and crack their skulls." A genuinely elated smile crossed her face at the thought. "You always underestimated me, Pete."

Peter ran a hand through his hair and smiled back. That wasn't fair. He got to touch his hair, why didn't she? "And you, Lily, were always the slightest bit bloodthirsty." Wait. She was a chief. She was The Chief. She could do whatever the hell she wanted.

She batted her eyelashes coyly, watched his Adam's apple bob. "Why, Peter." In an instant, she had him pushed against a tree, her lips dancing against his. His response was immediate, reciprocating, bucking the slightest bit when her fingers raked through his hair. Alarm bells went off in her mind. _DANGER! TOO CLOSE TO PAN! TOO CLOSE!_ But how many times had she ignored that voice before? Tigerlily was a girl who liked a bit of danger.

Then, just as quickly, she was gone, narrowly escaping the hands that had risen to claim her waist possessively. She stood close enough to whisper, but far enough to save herself from drowning in him.

"I thought you liked fire."

She waited until she was safely back on the Indian side of the island before letting her fingers hover over her lips, remembering Peter's mouth pressed against it. In the 9 separate occasions their lips had met, he'd tasted the same way. Sweet, deceptively sweet, with something slightly off about it.

She imagined it might be the way dreamshade would taste.

* * *

**And so the story ends. Well, mine does, at least. Who even knows where the writers are gonna take the Neverland arc? Hope you enjoyed it!**


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